Harry Potter and the Slimy Secret
by Sw0tv0st0k
Summary: Harry and his friends are now attending Tickleswitch University, where secrets and deceit are commonplace. Something unusual is going on with Harry, but what? R/R please!!!!! Your opinions greatly appreciated! Chapter 5 has arrived! Woohoo!
1. Anxiety

Chapter 1  
  
Anxiety  
  
So far, Hermione had not flunked up a single exam, obtaining at least 117% on every single one, and exactly 135% on her favourite subject of all, Transfiguration. During the last exam in the latter subject she was asked to turn a water fountain into an archerfish, which she managed with flying colours by creating several dozen archerfish with one swish of her faithful wand.  
  
She had promised to meet Harry and Ron at the Tickleswitch University Café for lunch so she swiftly made her way there, her silk black cloak sweeping the floor behind her.  
  
Hermione Granger had certainly changed since leaving Hogwart's School. She was slim and very pretty. Presently, she entered the café and scanned the darkened café for her friends. Her attention was diverted to a corner seat when she heard a familiar, hoarse laugh. She smiled to herself as she spotted Harry and Ron laughing ferociously as usual.  
  
"Hello!" she said cheerfully as she approached the table situated under a dim side-lamp on the brick wall. She liked the little café. It was comfortable and studious - or it had been until she heard the laughter. "How did your exams go this morning?"  
  
"Terrific!" Rob replied enthusiastically. "Professor Cranston made the tank of enchanted seaweed explode and it spilled out all over Draco. He seems a bit lost without Crabbe and Goyle."  
  
Hermione shuffled onto the seat next to Harry. She laughed with them, remembering how gutted Draco had been when his 'best pals' had not got into the University.  
  
"You seem quiet Harry," Hermione said, staring into Harry's face. He seemed reserved, like he was hiding something precious. Although he had laughed many times, he didn't seem to be happy.  
  
"I - those tests were very stressful," Harry replied finally. "I don't know how I'll cope next time."  
  
Hermione nodded. She couldn't say she knew the feeling.  
  
Here, I will take the time out to describe just how different she was now, in her early twenties. Her hair was straight and cropped at shoulder length. She was wearing a black and white striped top under her unfastened cloak, and a pencil skirt that shone black. She was taller now - the same height as Harry, and he was quite tall for his age. "I think we should all go out tonight, to take our mind off things, " Ron suggested. He sipped from a glass of pumpkin juice.  
  
"Take our minds off what?" Hermione said, quite confused.  
  
"Well, the exam stress."  
  
"What exam stress?"  
  
There was a short silence after that, in which Harry reached for his pumpkin juice and knocked the glass off the table, splashing it everywhere. Luckily, Hermione cleaned up the mess with a flick of her wand and another pumpkin juice was brought to the table.  
  
"OK, well, where shall we go?" Hermione asked. There seemed to be a lot of uncomfortable silences at present.  
  
Ron pondered for a moment. Why don't we go and practice Quidditch at the club for a while?"  
  
Hermione wasn't quite Quidditch-mad, but she nodded and her gaze settled on Harry, as she waited for him to jump up excitedly in agreement. He didn't. He was stroking the petals of a bunch of camellias which were set in a vase in the centre of the table. He obviously hadn't been paying attention.  
  
"Harry? Harry?" Hermione uttered, astonished that he hadn't caught up on the word 'Quidditch'. "HARRY?"  
  
Here, Harry jumped involuntarily.  
  
"I get the point. No need to shout," he snapped.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Ron asked, annoyed at his friend's behaviour. They stared for a while, trying to suss each other out. Hermione was taken aback slightly by the whole situation. Harry was never depressed. Yet she could see heavy bags under his eyes, which were peering wearily and tiredly at Ron's face. Come to think of it, he'd been quiet for the past few days. But now his silence seemed more profound. She could sense the uneasy aura around him. She sighed.  
  
"Harry, if there's something bothering you, you know you can always tell us anything," she said gently, laying a hand on his sleeve. He looked into her calming eyes. "I know," he replied after a while. "I know I can tell you anything I want to, but there's -" Here, he paused, and then sighed and continued. "- There's really nothing wrong. So you can just sit back a little and stop pestering me. I'm fine."  
  
Again, there was that intense silence. It seemed like the whole café had suddenly frozen in mid-sentence, and their movements had been reduced to slow motion. The usual clinking of teacups and the clatter of crocks ceased temporarily. Hermione and Ron kept glancing restlessly at each other in their anxiety. Finally, Hermione spoke:  
  
"There's no point in us sitting here doing nothing. We should find something constructive to do."  
  
"Like what?" Ron asked. It was obvious he was nervous and had lost all interest in everything around him. He kept fidgeting in his seat, and fingering the serrated edge of a knife in the crocks basket, and staring at his reflection in the vase of flowers then looking up and scanning the room momentarily.  
  
"We should get some revision in while we have the chance -"  
  
Ron sighed and Hermione stopped.  
  
"But it would help a lot with the upcoming exams," Hermione said argumentatively. "And I think you two need to take your mind off things."  
  
Harry snapped out of a daze and looked up as if he had just woken up from a long sleep and realised he'd missed out on something important.  
  
"I don't feel like revising," he moaned.  
  
"Stop snivelling," Hermione replied. She didn't mean it to be offending, as she spoke softly, looking down at him onto the top of his head, which was now resting comfortably in his folded arms across the table. "Besides, I think you need a little help."  
  
She stood up meaningfully, showing them she wasn't giving them an option.  
  
"Come on," she said promptly, signalling with her hands. "Let's go to the library."  
  
Harry rose rapidly.  
  
"I've got to get my things from my flat," he explained, although Hermione was suspicious. Without waiting for a reply he strolled off too quick for normal. Ron and Hermione watched after him, their curiosity and nerves increasing.  
  
"But he had all his class books and assignments with him this morning," Ron mused, half to himself, half informing his friend if she cared to listen. She shrugged.  
  
"We'd better get a move on if we intend to meet him at the library in time."  
  
They left the café at a stroll, carrying their bags on their backs, and disappeared into the crowds of Tickleswitch University. 


	2. Mystery

Chapter 2  
  
Mystery  
  
On arrival at the library, Hermione and Ron set their bags down and organised all the equipment they needed. The library was quieter than normal, which was probably because many of the students hadn't finished their classes yet.  
  
The library was as dim as the café, only much quieter and less sociable. The only noises here were scrawling quills and the dull sounds of people flicking over the pages of books. It was quite an unusual library because it was a large, octagonal room with a ceiling so high up you couldn't see it. There were seven sets of bookcases, one lined up against one of the walls. The eighth wall was the doorway, with a portrait of the founder of the University above it, who greeted unsuspecting people as they entered the room by leaning out of the picture frame and frightening them with an alarming exclamation of "BOO!" The bookcases were also too tall to see all the way up, so if you wanted a book all you had to do was to enter a description of the book you wanted onto the side of the end bookcases with your wand, as if it was a quill. Quite often, books would come flying down from in the distance so fast they had been known to knock a few people out for a little while.  
  
Hermione went to fetch a book on Astronomy, and Ron on flying magical creatures for his Care of Magical Creatures assignment. Hermione, of course, had been careful to choose as many subjects as possible and so had the most assignments to work on than anyone else who currently attended the University. Despite this fact, she was always the first one to finish them all.  
  
Hermione got straight to work, scribbling away furiously with her quill, seemingly never stopping to think. It looked as though she knew exactly what she was going to write, word-for-word from start to finish, like she was merely copying from a book.  
  
Ron, on the other hand, was still worried about the events of the café and of Harry's behaviour. He wrote a short amount at first, and then began to stare aimlessly at the paper.  
  
"Looking at it won't get the work done," Hermione stated in a matter- of-fact way. "You're still fretting about Harry aren't you?"  
  
Ron nodded slowly. "I haven't ever seen him that depressed before, not since when You-Know-Who was around. But that was years ago. He isn't around now. I keep thinking that if something that serious made him depressed before, then what on earth can make him so depressed now?"  
  
"I don't know," Hermione replied softly. "All we can do is make sure we're there for him. In the meantime, I think a little work wouldn't go amiss." She reset the quill in her hand, into a better writing position, and made to write some more. She stopped when Ron said:  
  
"It's easy for you to say."  
  
"How come?" Hermione asked, not in the least offended.  
  
"You can always concentrate, no matter what's going on around you. You don't find exams hard and you get on well with all your teachers. You can never get depressed like we can. I need to go for a walk."  
  
Hermione did nothing but watch as he left all his books and belongings as they were, sprawled out across the desk.  
  
He was wrong, she thought. She did get depressed, especially when Lord Voldemort had been around - they had been the worst days of her life. The only thing that got her through was Harry, Ron and taking her mind off things by reading or working alone. They hadn't needed to know that though. They had their own problems to deal with without having to consider hers as well.  
  
After a brief hesitation to think to herself, she continued with her work on how the arrangements of the planets affected Minotaurs and other magical creatures.  
  
* * *  
  
Ron's intentions were to go for a walk about the University grounds and then go up to his and Harry's apartment. He suspected Harry wanted some time alone for a while so decided it wouldn't be a good idea to go straight back home. Besides, the University gardens were a pleasant, quiet walk if you wanted to think.  
  
Ron wandered around the tiled paths beside the many stone and ceramic water fountains that caught poor students out by spraying them with a shoot of water every now and again, and soaking them from head to foot. The mermaids and fishes sometimes came to life and swam in their own refreshing waters. Ron remembered the time a mermaid called Sandy had hidden beneath the frothing current and waited until he was near enough before pulling him in with her. Gasping for air, he had tried to surface again, but she was holding him down and all he could do was hold his breath as best he could while she inspected his magic wand with keen interest.  
  
"H - hullp!" Ron had gulped, trying to push the mermaid's fingers away. He hadn't been able to see a thing under the water; just swarms of pale, grouped bubbles floating wildly about. The mermaid let go, but she wouldn't let him leave the pool until he had told her the answer to five riddles. The last had been the hardest - he was given three guesses to try and find out her name. It had been pure luck that saved him that time. He was fortunate enough to guess at the name 'Sandy' and then she frothed up the water until it turned red in her fury and warned him to never come back. He gladly agreed he wouldn't.  
  
After an agreeable walk between the oak trees, and a short rest in the roots of one (this reminded him of the Whomping Willow, and he got paranoid whenever the wind swayed the distant branches), he set off in the direction of the flat.  
  
On arriving, he gasped wide-mouthed. It was filthy. It had been relatively neat that morning and now, in the space of about six hours it had become a pigsty. All of his homework and books and assignments were sprawled out on the floor, and there was water and straw everywhere. The pictures strung from the wall were hanging from a thread, the paintings on them facing to the ground, and the muffled yelling of the people in it was clearly audible. They were shouting for help.  
  
Ron approached the nearest painting, of some ladies with umbrellas, and lifted it up so that it hung straight again.  
  
"What happened?" he asked them. "Did you see anything?"  
  
"Oui! Oui!" they cried. They were French.  
  
Ron moaned. "Er - Do you speak English?" He couldn't ever recall them speaking any English, he usually avoided talking to them anyway because they were so noisy and talking would encourage them.  
  
"Anglais? Alors, non," they said. Ron couldn't understand them but he figured that they definitely knew no English.  
  
We wandered around the room asking the characters of the two other paintings if they had seen anything. The first was a small, old painting of a woman sitting in a chair and rocking her baby to sleep. She had only been asleep for a few minutes, she said, when she heard a commotion in the room and looked up. But before she was able to see anything she felt herself being pulled down to face the ground and then it was too late to see anything but the grey-blue carpet. The other painting, of a knight in rattling armour mounted on his white stallion, said that he was half-blind and couldn't see much in the first place. He said a dragon had spouted fire in his face, and scarred him for life, leaving him almost sightless.  
  
Ron looked around at the mess. He began to collect his work and put it back into files, and then to make the bed and sweep away the straw. He hoped the water would dry soon.  
  
But what in the world had caused this mess? And where was Harry? 


	3. Pain

Chapter 3  
  
Hermione was just about to finish her work in the library when Ron marched urgently in.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked with concern, noticing his ruffled hair and his loose laces. Not that it was so incredibly unusual for them to be untied. "Has Harry said something to you?"  
  
"No," he gasped in between breaths. He'd obviously run half the way there. "The flat. It's complete havoc. I walked in and Harry wasn't there, but there was an awful mess all over the place. Straw and water. Everywhere."  
  
"Straw and water?" Hermione repeated. "Straw and water? Do you have any idea where Harry went?"  
  
"Not a clue. He wasn't anywhere to be seen."  
  
Hermione and Ron replaced the stationery and other work back into their bags and trudged up to Ron's apartment.  
  
"What are we going to do about Harry?" Ron said. It was a matter that neither Ron nor Hermione could resolve. There was little hope he would tell them anything, and at present he could be anywhere.  
  
Hermione shook her head in wonder. Even Tickleswitch's cleverest student was stumped.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry began to think he was lost. He was thankful he had got out of the University for some half-decent time alone. He knew that Ron and Hermione were sure to follow him if he had stayed in his flat, and they'd wonder at the mess. It had been created half-unintentionally but the idea of mess seemed to be a good one. He began to make more and more, taking out his anger, pulling paper from the cabinets, scattering clothes on the floor, and attempting to rip the paintings off the wall. What's more, he had thought, it'll hold up Ron and Hermione. They'll have to tidy it up before they come looking for me. At least, that was the plan.  
  
Finally, Harry began to recognise his surroundings. His eyes searched the University campus grounds. It was hidden from Muggle eyes of course. To them it looked like an empty field of grass and daisies. It wasn't as big as Diagon Alley - Diagon Alley was the biggest non-Muggle place in the world. The building had been made to look bigger than it really was, there were lots of the old outbuildings scattered around the field so in fact it was not one very large construction, but lots of small ones. If it had not been for the distribution of the building then it would have been the biggest non-Muggle site ever.  
  
There was little sense of purpose for Harry's walk other than to think. He wanted to get away from it. He didn't like it. He never had, from the moment he saw it and the first word that was spoken.  
  
He dreaded the sight of its beady little blinking eyes staring him full in the face, reading his thoughts, and deciphering his every move. Harry could see the cogs clicking into place in its flattened head, he had realised it could see into his mind, it would creep closer to him every time he thought of what it was doing.  
  
How Harry hated it! He despised it completely and utterly, and it could tell he thought that because it was inside his head all the time.  
  
Harry cursed out loud. Several nearby witches and wizards looked up at him; they hadn't realised he had been there until he spoke. They carried on their daily businesses - going to the library to finish assignments; going to meet friends, to discuss what was happening at the weekend; going to their apartments to spend some quality time alone.  
  
Harry couldn't do any of those, for various reasons. He was The Boy Who Lived. He was too restless to do any work, he had to be alone, he needed to find some space in the company of no one but himself, but no one would let him. There'd always be the one person who stared him in the face for several minutes and then jump up and exclaim, "Look everybody! It's Harry Potter!" Then they would rush toward him admiring his scar, asking for autographs, taking pictures. Harry needed to stop all that. He needed a way to find some time to himself. He had to get away from them. And most of all he had to get away from It.  
  
* * *  
  
"Any luck?" Hermione asked, entering the flat for the fifth time in an hour.  
  
"None at all," Ron responded, kicking a ball of straw across the floor. "I even asked what seemed like the whole damn school, but no one's seen even a glimpse of him. I think they all thought I was another spectator eager to meet him."  
  
Ron felt his face twist awkwardly. He wished that he had become famous as well. How come Harry had all the luck? He was fortunate to have so many admirers and people who adored him. Who would travel a mile to see his face for themselves. Instead, Ron was just like the rest of them. He loved Harry too. He was another admirer. It just wasn't fair.  
  
Hermione saw him scowl. "What's wrong Ron?" she inquired curiously. Something was obviously going through his mind.  
  
"I was just -" Ron stopped and reminded himself to be careful. "Remember the first time we met you?"  
  
Hermione smiled faintly. "Yes," she replied distantly. "You needed to wash your face. And I needed to get a life." She looked down at her feet.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron said, moving closer.  
  
"I'm such a nobody. All I wanted to do at Hogwart's was get good grades, like there was nothing more important in life. As if that was all I cared about. Myself, and my reputation."  
  
Ron held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You are the least selfish person I have ever met. It's because of you that we're all together. It was you who got us out of trouble after the Troll incident. If you hadn't told them it was your fault then we'd have been in big trouble."  
  
Hermione's eyes watered but she blinked her tears away. She stared Ron back in the eyes, as if considering something of importance. She shrugged his hands away from her shoulders.  
  
"That was only after you saved my life first," she replied. She opened the door and walked away.  
  
Ron could only watch after her.  
  
He dedicated the rest of the day to cleaning up the room: it was the only useful thing he could bring himself to do. He scrubbed the floor, and swept up the straw, and sprayed air freshener to get rid of the reek of animals. It smelled just like Scabbers' old cage, he thought.  
  
When he'd tidied up as best he could he gave himself a glass of pumpkin juice, sat down at the settee and stared at the French women spinning their umbrellas in the rain.  
  
Harry did not return until 10 o' clock. 


	4. Anxiety again

Hermione had had nothing better to do all evening other than to read a book she had started reading that morning: a tale about a witch and a wizard who grew up together.  
  
After a while however, she replaced it back onto the bookshelf. She recalled the day's events. She had no idea why she'd said that all of a sudden to Ron. She didn't know why she'd said it now, after all these years. She ultimately wished she hadn't. He'd think she was sulking now. She had wanted to phone his room up all night to see if Harry had returned yet, but she couldn't build up enough courage to do so. She didn't think she could talk to him properly for a long time now. She'd feel so embarrassed!  
  
Hermione looked out of the window at first. There wasn't much of a view - she just wanted to admire the sky. How free and wild and emotional it was! It could be watered with an orange glow at dusk or dawn, or it could hold angry billowing storm clouds flashing through the rain. There seemed no end to the path of the clouds. They had no worries, no cares; they didn't even have to think about anything.  
  
She shook her head briskly, wondering why she was imagining herself as a cloud. Clouds weren't alive! She happened to glance at the mirror. She stared at her own eyes. Her watery, chestnut eyes. How ugly she looked! She tore her gaze away from the mirror painfully. She remembered Ron's steady blue eyes and how they pierced her thoughts like a knife through her head. They had been burning with curiosity and fear. Mainly fear. But what was he afraid of? A tiny tear streamed down her face. She hadn't even realised that her eyes were so weepy!  
  
It was at that moment that her roommate Bella came into the room. Hermione quickly scrubbed her eyes dry as Bella closed the door to the flat.  
  
"Hi Hermione!" she said brightly. "What have you been up to today?"  
  
Hermione sighed and they spent the rest of the night chatting about Bella's crush. She wasn't listening really. The odd nod seemed to do the trick.  
  
Hermione went to bed early that night, but she hardly slept a wink.  
  
* * *  
  
"Aren't you even going to tell me where you went?" Ron questioned Harry. It was 7 o' clock in the morning, and Harry was busy picking at a slice of burnt toast. His expression had been vacant as he sat staring at the far wall. Up until Ron had spoken. He looked up at Ron. Ron noticed Harry's eyes were unusually dark and his skin surprisingly pale. And was it just him or were there dark lines under Harry's eyes? He looked awful.  
  
"Ron," Harry sighed, replacing his slice of toast onto the plate and putting both down on the settee beside him. He was annoyed.  
  
"Sorry," Ron said hastily, sounding like he didn't mean it. Which he didn't, to be quite honest. He, too, sighed and then he sat beside Harry. "Do you even mean to tell me anything?"  
  
Harry did not reply. What could he say?  
  
"I'm going to Charms lecture," he said simply, slinging his bag over his shoulder and picking up his cloak on the way out.  
  
Ron waited until Harry had closed the door before kicking the wall and letting out his anger in a loud scream. There was a knock at the door.  
  
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he growled. His face was burning up in his sudden frenzy of fury. "Oh, it's you," he said gruffly as he saw Hermione's frightened, white face looking up at him in open-mouthed wonder. Ron opened the door wider to allow her through. "Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
Her expression was still one of shock and amazement. She had never seen him lose his rag before, and especially not at her! His face was contorted and scarlet-coloured. His eyes blazed, the eyes that had looked ever so calmly into hers just the day before. His soft, friendly, blue eyes had turned from a calming ocean to a raging storm wave.  
  
"I was just a bit annoyed at Harry," Ron explained. "Want some warm pumpkin juice?"  
  
Hermione nodded as Ron turned and began fumbling about in the kitchen area. "What happened with Harry?" she asked, very much full of concern and still quite frightened at the sight of Ron's expression as he had answered the door.  
  
"He wouldn't tell me anything," Ron said stiffly, his teeth still clenched together. "I questioned him all night and all morning."  
  
"Where is he now?" Hermione asked. "We all have Charms class first thing."  
  
"He's gone ahead of us," Ron explained. He could not hide his anger. Hermione could hear him spitting when he spoke, and she could see his strained face, steadily losing its bright colour.  
  
"We'd better catch him up then," Hermione said. She turned towards the door. Ron stopped her.  
  
"Hermione -"  
  
"Yes?" She spun on her heels and faced him.  
  
"Why did you come?"  
  
Hermione stopped, and there was that moment's pause where she looked as though she was considering whether to tell him or not. "I was going to thank you for last night, but I think I can just about stop myself now."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Now hurry up. Harry will be waiting for us."  
  
Ron very much doubted that Harry was waiting for them. In fact, Ron was in doubt about everything. Right now, he wouldn't mind at all if Sandy the mermaid pulled him into a fountain and asked him five more riddles.  
  
Once all the students had gathered in the room and on the balconies, the Professor made his appearance. Professor Cranston was a short, stoat little man who walked very fast for a man of his structure. His beard was uncannily similar to the Hogwart's Charms professor - Professor Flitwick - although Cranston wore a gnome-like hat as well. He wore purple robes with a black belt, and the only reason he didn't look like a gnome was his big, red, bulbous nose and hazel eyes that you would prefer not to be looking at you! He had a booming voice, which did not suit his appearance at all, but it suited everyone else as it was easy to hear from the back row.  
  
The lecture consisted of changing the colour of animals and the various ways it should be done, and how to apply the chant to a particular animal, and the movement of your wand, and how to change the colour back to what it was, and how this was all useful in the wizarding world. There were many photographs and paintings of animals and the men who'd tried the spell when it went disastrously wrong.  
  
Hermione was scribbling notes all the way through, desperately trying to write down everything that was said, and concentrating just as hard as ever. Ron found this the perfect opportunity to talk to Harry.  
  
"Harry, we're your friends. We're concerned about you. Why can't you tell us the truth?"  
  
Harry clenched his teeth. He scribbled down a few more notes.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"What?" he replied, quiet but stern.  
  
"Just tell me! Or at least tell me why you can't?"  
  
There was a long pause in which Harry pretended to be interested in the far wall, its high windows opening out onto the overcast, miserable sky. Harry saw something that almost made him twitch. He jumped up.  
  
"What? What's up Harry?"  
  
"Nothing, I've got to go," Harry said as he stuffed his quill and paper and books into his bag, then slung it over his shoulder.  
  
"If it's nothing how come you're in such a hurry?" Ron asked following him out of the door. Several people turned round to see what the commotion was. They apparently thought it was nothing of importance because they soon turned their heads back to the Professor and carried on with their note taking.  
  
"It's none of your business," Harry said, running down the corridor. Ron looked back to Hermione. She was staring at him again, wonderment all over her face. He looked up the corridor to see Harry dart down the left corridor. He looked back to the Professor, babbling on about the man who tried to turn a rhinoceros red but was attacked by it soon after.  
  
Ron rushed up the corridor, forgetting about his bag and leaving the lecture behind him. Quickly he ran down the left corridor to see Harry still in the distance. Now was the time to find out what on earth was going on . . .  
  
AN: Review please! It's greatly appreciated, and I really want some opinions on this!!! 


	5. Mystery again

Chapter 5  
  
Mystery again  
  
Hermione looked up to where Harry had been gazing before - out of the window, up into the never ending sky. She could see nothing of importance at all. Nothing.  
  
There was a small rim around the circular window, both on the inside and out. There was a circle of white in the centre and eight spokes travelling out of its circumference. Beyond the window there was nothing.  
  
Hermione continued to stare. Her eyes were comfortable looking up at the clouds. The wild, free, ever-moving clouds. And then something stirred.  
  
Hermione wasn't sure of what she was seeing. It was like a flicking tail. A quick darting movement - moving out of sight. Hermione was brought back down to earth by the dismissal of all the students from the Lecture Hall. She quickly made her way back to Harry and Ron's apartment.  
  
On arrival, she found they were not there. Nobody answered the door. They had not gone back home.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry was still unaware that he was being followed. According to him, Hermione and Ron were still sitting at their places in the Lecture Room, probably discussing his disgusting behaviour. Harry was sick of their moaning about their petty lives when his was in danger every second. He was weary of their watchful eyes always peering at him, never leaving him for barely a second. Just like everyone else, they were always watching his every move. Every direction he took, every decision he made, every word he spoke, was taken into account.  
  
Little did he know just how closely he was being watched now.  
  
Ron was careful to wait until Harry had turned the corner on the bottom of every corridor before descending down the long corridor himself. Then he would peer around the edge of the wall, to see which turning Harry would take next. He had no idea where Harry was leading him to. No idea what Harry was doing or why.  
  
Harry finally ventured into one of the classrooms on the right. Ron waited a short while before making his move, just to be sure that he wouldn't be spotted or that Harry would come out of the room straight away. The whole school was still, it seemed. The whole world was waiting for this moment. Ron began to feel dizzy. He held his head as he wandered down the corridor and sank below the window of the door.  
  
He finally released his head and lifted himself up so that he could just see what was inside the room. At first all that was apparent was darkness, but his eyes soon grew used to it and shapes began to appear like figures in the mist.  
  
Ron heard Harry's voice slice through the darkness. He saw his outline quiver as Harry drew forward at something. Ron couldn't decipher what words Harry was speaking. They seemed familiar, yet bizarre. Strange words. Ron realised Harry was speaking in Parseltongue.  
  
The room was long but not very wide. There were long benches with cauldrons settled at equal distances along them. The far wall was also home to more benches but with sinks and taps formed. There were no lights, just blackness and tiny slivers of sharp light cutting through areas of the uneven blinds.  
  
Harry was almost screeching now. Screeching words that Ron couldn't understand.  
  
"What do you want? Why me?" Harry yelled.  
  
"Because you are the Boy Who Lived."  
  
"Why? Why did I live? What is the point in my being alive? Why couldn't I just have died and had it over with?"  
  
"Fate would not allow you."  
  
"Why is fate giving me all this wretched pain and torture? I just want to be normal."  
  
"But a normal life would leave you hungry. You'd only wish that you were famous. Like everyone else does. Like your friend Ron."  
  
"Ron?"  
  
  
  
Ron heard his name mentioned in between bouts of Parseltongue. His head was spinning all the more wildly, but he tried to keep his focus.  
  
  
  
"He's been jealous of your fortune since he met you."  
  
"I - I know. I had a feeling he was."  
  
"Then there is a simple solution which you have not yet contemplated."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"You already know the answer. It crossed your mind many times before. At Hogwart's. At your faithful old school."  
  
"Stop reading my thoughts! I don't like it! It's driving me crazy!"  
  
"I can't stop myself. It's natural. Without thought-reading how would I be able to help you?"  
  
"Help me? How can a filthy serpent like you help me?"  
  
"Oh, there are ways. People like you have too many secrets. When they are revealed everything slips gently into place, simple solutions are found."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"There is that one answer that you have not considered yet."  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
"Oh, it's quite simple really. You have fame. You don't want it. But your friend DOES."  
  
"You want me to pass on my fame to Ron? How is that possible? It doesn't work. It can't happen . . . can it?"  
  
"It is Harry. You wished it would happen. I thought it was my duty to fulfil your wish."  
  
"WHAT! What are you doing? You're making my mind twist! You're burning my head with your stare every time to read my mind. You'll end up killing me!"  
  
"But that's what you want, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes. I mean no! No it isn't!"  
  
"Ah, so you finally admit you were wrong about yourself. I'm afraid it's too late about the boy. Your fame has already left you. I was only doing what you wanted. It IS what you want, Harry, isn't it?"  
  
  
  
Ron could hardly stand up any longer. His head was throbbing and he felt choked. He could hardly keep his eyes open. His eyelids were so heavy. Before he knew it, he had swirled into the land of unconsciousness . . .  
  
AN: Do you think I've gone overboard? Never mind. I wanted it to stand out. R/R please! Before I go completely mad! 


End file.
